Doomed to Failure
by JoSav
Summary: I will never be what I long for so badly. I'm a warrior. But there is no war. Only silence. I suffer. I suffer in silence. [Mirai Trunks]
1. prologue: ghosts from the past

**Doomed to Failure**

* * *

prologue ---ghosts from the past---  
(Rating: T)

* * *

The figure seemed in a hurry. Eager to get away from where he or she was. A cap covered the face, revealing nothing. The dark cloak reached down to brown-leathered army boots. The sinister figure carried an equally dark bundle, holding it close to her chest. 

The square was deserted. Not a living soul dwelled in the streets at this hour of the night, with such rainy weather. Rushing across the tiled square, the figure halted abruptly, turned slightly, and stood motionless in front of a tall and erect statue of a man leaning on his sword.

A slender feminine hand moved from under de bundle to hold it with only one arm. The now free hand removed the cap and revealed the face of a woman, wet with both tears and rain. Her dark eyes glistened with still unshed tears as she looked up to the statue.

"Trunks— I miss you so much."

The bundle in her hand moved a bit and two tiny hands tugged on the woman's cloth. She didn't care to look down to the little girl in her arms. She stood motionless, watching the massive statue.

The lavender-haired infant tilted her head coyly and gazed up to the enormous statue. She exclaimed, but spoke simply one word, which echoed over the deserted square.

"_Touchan_!"

The black haired woman, still holding the child, turned away and vanished into the darkness of night.

* * *

His fingers tapped across the keyboard, swiftly typing down the words that emerged in his mind, not as rapid as his mother would type but it would have to do. 

_Trunks' Journal, January 26, 797:_  
_A decade of peace, 10 years after I destroyed Cell. Thirteen years after the Jinzouningen were stopped forever in their horrible reign over this planet. I sit here in my office, unsure of what I should do with my life. When I had just defeated Cell my mother suggested I should travel the world to help rebuild it. So I did. Not because I felt the need, no, because my mother wanted me to. The planet could have gone up in smoke for all I cared. There was an emptiness I could not explain. After I had defeated the last enemy known to our world, Chikyuu's need for a guardian was gone. In my foolish beliefs any enemy could arrive I continued my training. But now, a decade after the last threat was destroyed, I know the world is safe. And if it isn't, I no longer care._

_The world is safe. I know it is. There is nothing left to threaten it. What enemy from the outside could arrive? Furiiza is long gone, and so are his minions. There is no force known stronger than him, apart from the three that were created at the hands of an insane scientist from my world, the three I defeated._

_I occupied myself these past years with rebuilding what was lost but there are things that cannot be fixed. I have tried to love. But I've hated so much I find it hard to unearth anything else. There is nothing else. I love my mother, and to me, that's enough. She has wanted me to move on so badly, wanted me to settle down and start a family. But I am no family man. I am a warrior. The last warrior. The last, carrying the Saiyajin Legacy within. And it will die with me._

_I can no longer do this. There's nothing left for me here: in selfish denial I have waited for a new threat to Chikyuu. None came._

_Often have I pondered how the past is doing. How the timeline I warned for the Jinzouningen copes with every day life. But I will never return._

_Please forget about me. I no longer exist. I don't belong here. I belong in a violent world. I thrived on combat, lived for it. The boy I once was died long ago. And the dead cannot return to this world. So I know I will never be whole again. I will never be what I long for so badly. I'm a warrior. But there is no war. Only silence._

_I suffer. I suffer in silence._

He stared at the cursor for a long time until his mother's voice woke him from his torturing thoughts.

"Trunks! Trunks-kun, could you get over here?"

He turned his head, as if it would enable him to listen closer.

"What's wrong, _Kaasan_?" He called to the back, into the hallway.

No response came. He stood from the chair and left his office. Walking down the alley of Capsule Corporation, he made his way down to Bulma's main laboratory.

He stood in the doorway when he saw his mother's slender legs from underneath, what looked like, some sort of vehicle.

"_Kaasan_?"

She crawled from under the vehicle and sat up, setting aside the wrench she held. The blue-haired woman smiled, wiping sweat from her brow, smearing oil on her face.

"Ah sweetie, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," she said.

Trunks nodded once, mutely. Bulma looked up to him, lit a cigarette and took a crumpled up piece of paper from her overall, reaching it to her son.

Trunks frowned, deepening the wrinkles in his brow. "What is it?" He wondered as he unfolded the note.

"What do you make of this?" Bulma asked.

He looked curiously at his mother. "Go on, read what the note says and tell me what you think. I found it this morning on the kitchen table," she explained. She inhaled from her cigarette when Trunks unfolded the paper and began reading.

_'To the Briefs family,_

_You do not know me and I cannot tell you who I am if you would._  
_I was born in an alternate world, a parallel universe, a different Chikyuu._  
_In this world – like this one – the Jinzouningen were defeated. So was Cell. _  
_Before you begin to wonder what point I am trying to make, I will tell you._

_There is something else. And as long as there is any power in this world left it will awaken, sooner or later. Its name is Majin Buu. There are two ways of defeating this creature. There is the easy way and there is the hard way._

_Buu's sphere is still somewhere in this world, I can feel it. But he has not been woken up yet. Majin Buu lies dormant somewhere in the innermost of your world. I have not had the fortuity of finding Majin Buu's nesting for if I had I would simply have destroyed it to prevent all misery, or at least had attempted to._  
_Buu will awaken as soon as its creator's successor, Babidi, will have gathered enough life-force of Chikyuu's inhabitants to rouse it. Please, prevent Babidi from awakening Majin Buu. Babidi may be a trickster with sly helpers but I'm sure they're nothing Trunks cannot handle. _

_Prevent Buu from awakening. Prevent it or everything's lost. My world is gone because of Majin Buu. Everything I once cared for is gone. _

_Don't ask too many questions. It doesn't matter who I am._  
_Trunks, I learned that you defeated the Jinzouningen and Cell by yourself. That means you are stronger than my Trunks ever was. Maybe you hold the key to destroying Majin Buu, much like I failed._

_If ChiChi is still alive, please give her a hug for me. And I will keep your Gohan in my prayers. I miss him, too. Keep his daughter safe, will you?_

_Promise me you will stop Babidi in awakening Buu. Destroy Buu's sphere._

_I know. I know I haven't told you of the hard way. I'm sure you're curious about it, like all bearing Saiyajin blood would be. There is no hard way. There is no other way._

_---A friend.'_

Bulma inhaled from her cigarette before she spoke, meeting Trunks' confused stare.

Trunks said nothing, he did not understand.

"Trunks, I—"

The man cut off his mother. "Someone left this for us on the kitchen table?" he asked.

Bulma nodded. "Yes, and he or she must have known the Capsule Corp inside out."

"What do you mean?" Trunks asked.

"The monitors of the VC-Guard showed nothing. Not even a shadow. There was no recording between two and three last night."

"You mean to tell me this mysterious visitor erased the images the cameras recorded?" Trunks clenched one hand into a fist, crumbling the note slightly.

"But she dropped this," said Bulma as she held up a small stuffed doll.

Trunks took the small plushie from his mother's hands, frowning. He looked at the doll: the spitting image of his mother, a small CC sign embedded on the doll's dress.

He stared at his mother. "She? A woman? She dropped… this?"

"I'm sure of it, we haven't made dolls like those in over forty years." She paused. "I'm suspecting our burglar was a woman. I just know it."

Trunks shook his head, nearly crushing the doll in his strong fingers. "You mean our messenger is just a kid?"

Bulma shook her head. "I doubt it. But this doll definitely belonged to one. It's seen a lot of misery and it's old. Maybe it was hers when she was younger."

"You know I wasn't much older when I was faced with…" Trunks held his tongue suddenly, pushing the doll back in his mother's hands, unfolding the letter a second time, re-reading it. "She speaks of a daughter, Gohan's daughter. Gohan never had a daughter." He looked up, eyes locked onto his mother's. "Mom, when did Gohan die?"

Bulma blinked. "779. Why?"

"Gohan never had a daughter. You think she might—?"

"I don't know Trunks. I honestly don't know. But she says she learned you defeated the Jinzouningen and Cell. She must've been in town. Maybe some of the citizens saw her. She couldn't have just disappeared, could she? She might be able to erase our recording bots' memories but she can't erase the memory of people. She must've at the very least crossed Hope City, right?"

Trunks knew what was coming and knit his brow, clenching his teeth. "I won't go in case you were wondering," he sneered, turning away.

"Trunks…" Bulma pleaded as she enclosed a hand onto her son's shoulder. "We might as well try to verify…"

"Then why don't YOU go?" the lavender haired man whispered.

"I… It's…" she stammered. Then, gathering her wits, she finally spoke without further hesitation. "Not only do I need some new supplies… I just want you to see what Hope City became like since you helped rebuild it. No big deal. People are even wondering whether you are still alive. You never show yourself anymore. You saved them, you are their hero, their…"

"I'm no hero. Give it a rest, mother. I'll collect your stupid supplies if it means so damned much to you."

He strode out of the lab, the crumpled paper in his folded hand, a tight fist reflecting on his inner struggle to hold on just a moment longer. He closed his eyes and took a Capsule Corp. aircar. He never flew anymore. He hated to fly on his own. He hated to scan the horizon in search for an enemy that would never come. He hated the life he was leading now. He hated life itself.

_My Trunks_, he thought. _What did she mean by 'my Trunks'? And what did she mean by Gohan's daughter? Did Gohan have a daughter? What does this mean?_

There were so many questions. And if Gohan had had a daughter why had he never mentioned it?

* * *

It didn't take him long to drive into the centre of Hope City. It was a Tuesday afternoon, no big deal, no traffic jam and no busy streets. Chikyuu was still not a very crowded place. For many humans had died during the Jinzouningen constant onslaught. 

He stopped his car and locked it in a small capsule by pressing a button on the remote he carried in his navy blue jacket.

Trunks looked up. His eyes widened. In the middle of the Town Square stood a tall and erect statue. The features were more than apparent. The statue was of a man, hair down to his shoulders, pulled in a ponytail, a sword in one hand, on which he leaned. The statue was of him, of Trunks Vejiita Briefs, as it said on the plaque below. He swallowed. They had even mentioned his father's name; a name he only carried personally, not formally.

He knew now why his mother had sent him into town. She was trying to make him realize he was still needed, the people still wanted him around, he was their hero— He was their hero. The world was no longer in need of a hero.

A young boy tugged on his trousers. He looked down with a stern, hurtful face. The boy's smile faded, he met up with Trunks' glare frightfully.

"A…are you the man of the statue, s…s-sir?" he stammered.

Trunks continued gazing at the boy. He said nothing.

The boy's mother, younger than Trunks was, came up to them and picked up the child. "Better leave Mr. Briefs alone, Kuna. He doesn't have time to talk to you, he's our guardian."

The words echoed in his mind. _Our guardian_, he thought, _some guardian_—

Then, he stopped the woman from walking away. Asking her several questions in hopes of finding the answers he sought.

* * *

She growled. The toddler wouldn't stop crying. She tried to concentrate, only to fail. She clenched her teeth, trying to fix the loose controls of the pod. Still, the child by her side screamed and shrieked with a force that could easily pass for an entire army hollering at the enemy. 

"Oh for Kami's sake, shut up!" the woman snapped, shooting a brief glare at the girl beside her.

The girl hushed up instantly but just for a moment. Not soon after, she began weeping again, louder and louder. "I want my Baachan! I want my Baachan!" she shrieked over and over.

The black haired woman set down her tools, sighing, sitting down on her buttocks. She blew a string of pitch black hair out of her face and took the girl in her lap. "Bikini-chan," she pleaded, "I don't know where your doll is. You must have dropped her somewhere. I'll buy you a new one once we're out of here. Okay?"

The girl looked at her mother, mute for an instant, chewing her tiny hand.

"I promise?" the woman attempted when the girl pouted. But it was to no avail for the child started screaming yet again. "I want my Baa-chan!"

The black-haired woman sighed. She was becoming desperate rapidly. "Listen missy, we'll go into town to look for your stupid doll. If we can't find it, I'll buy you another. So please hush up. You don't want your mommy to turn deaf or go mad, do you?"

The child looked up to her mother, nodding silently.

"Okay. Fine," the woman muttered, scrambling to her feet, holding the child in one arm.

When she walked off in the direction of Hope City she sighed loudly. "You're a real pest, Bikini-chan, a real pest."

* * *

Author's Note: 

Maybe this needs a little work around the edges but I'm mostly writing this because I need a little distraction from my other projects. I do suppose the essence of this story is a little cliché but I don't really mind.

This is a very old prologue. It's probably more than four years old by now. Kind of funny how I never really finished this story. I don't know why. I guess I'm not good at romance. I'm a fight scene writer. And I like writing about humour. The thing is, Mirai Trunks isn't a very humorous person. Heh.

Also, I would like to point out to Trunks-Pan haters (and lovers) that I'm no true Trunks-Pan fan. In fact, I can only slightly imagine them together in the future world. And even in that world I am very hesitant to think Trunks would ever be such a pervert to hook up with his mentor's daughter. It just doesn't sound like something Trunks would do. Still, I'm not opposed to possibilities and I'm open-minded. I suggest you are, too. Don't hate me for opening the possibility of Pan and Trunks (like a million did before me). Note that Mirai Trunks is single in this story and I'm a fervent aficionada of impossible love. My loyal readers probably know that by now, hehehe.

Also, there's still the possibility that this black-haired woman isn't Pan. Ha. P


	2. episode 1: Trunks a father?

**Doomed to Failure**

episode one ---Trunks—a father?---  
(Rating: T)

* * *

It was nearing midday when Trunks finally entered Hope City's bustling centre. The trees he had planted almost eight or nine years ago at the outer perimeters of the town square had grown big, lush with blooming flowers. He did not enjoy his short stay in Hope City. He sighed, well, he hoped his stay would be short. He did not like having to interact with people much. Today was no different. 

He was hardly given the opportunity to ask his questions. Instead, citizens flocked to him as if he were some messiah, forming a thick crowd on both the square and the street Trunks had entered in hopes of avoiding most of them. He did not take pleasure in any of this. In fact, he felt rather threatened by the amount of attention the crowd was giving him. He did not want attention. He only wanted a little peace of mind. He wanted answers to his questions.

"Listen," he said, gesturing with his hands in hopes of calming the crowd down. "Listen! I only have a few questions. I'm looking for a stranger who might've crossed this town sometime yesterday. It's possible this person asked some of you questions about the androids. If anyone knows of this person, please tell me. It's of great importance."

The crowd was getting restless, Trunks noticed. He knew the terror the androids had left in their hearts was still there, even if it had been over a decade since he'd destroyed them. They feared strangers, much like they still feared anything out of the ordinary.

"There's nothing to be unsettled about," he assured them. "I'm simply looking for answers. Did anyone notice anything?" There was a sense of desperation in his voice he couldn't explain. He did not particularly enjoy this kind of attention but if it would lead to any answers he was willing to put up with it. This wasn't going to be easy. Most of the gathered public either gauged at him in awe, probably unable to even hear what he was saying or lost in conversations as to what he might be talking about in the first place. Others looked in fear, in old fear that had slumbered in their hearts and would stay there forever.

An elderly man stepped forward, away from the crowd. "There was this woman," he said in a croaky voice. The lot of people fell silent, listening to the man. All watched how Trunks stepped closer, his eyes wondering.

"She had a small child with her, I believe. I could not really tell whether it was a boy or a girl. The child was silent and the woman had her wrapped in blankets, hiding its face. The woman asked me all sorts of questions about the past, when the androids still roamed." The old man looked down, leaning forward on his crooked walking stick. His face was lined, showing the suffering he must've undergone during his younger years, during the long time of war. He paused for a moment before he continued. "She looked quite desperate. I do suppose I wasn't the first she'd confronted with questions of the past. One mentioning of those terrible androids still has most people running. She was a traveller, by the looks of it. But she sure knew a lot of the past struggle against the androids. Maybe she was from out of town?"

Trunks had his arms folded, considering what the man had said to him. "Perhaps," he said. "Can you tell me what she looked like?"

The man showed his toothless mouth. "Course I can!" he said with a laugh. "She was quite the fox, I tell you. Her eyes were indescribably dark, almost black, you see. And her cheekbones! Her cheekbones were so fine! Hm… now that I mention it, there really isn't much more to tell. I wish I could've seen more than just her face. She was wearing a dark cloak that covered most of her. I wonder what kind of figure she had. I bet it was smokin' hot! She was quite tall, too. Heh heh heh."

Trunks blushed, slightly embarrassed by the man's perversion.

"I saw her, too," a blonde youth said and put one hand on his cheek. Reluctantly, Trunks noticed the man had a patch over his left eye socket; unmistakably result of the _jinzouningen_ holocaust. Seventeen in particular enjoyed mangling people rather than kill them, calling it his more 'lenient moods'. The androids were known for their ruthless cruelty. Trunks focused on the young man again, listening to what he had to say in hopes it would provide him with at least some insight as to whom had broken into the Capsule Corp. facilities last night.

"She seemed in a hurry," the youngster continued. "It was late at night. Two, maybe three in the morning. I'm a night watcher, you see. It's my job to check the centre of Hope City to keep the supplies in local shops secure. It gives everyone a safe feeling to know watch is kept now that you left." He spoke with a feeling of regret in his voice but Trunks knew he was the one to regret things. No matter how much he denied it truth was people still counted on him. He didn't want them to count on him. He wanted them to take care of themselves.

"Anyway," the youth went on. "She was running across the square but halted suddenly."

Trunks looked at the man, waiting for him to continue. He was growing more and more intrigued. What had this woman been up to? What did she want?

"She stared at your statue for well over twenty minutes, I suppose. I didn't really time her or anything but it was long, really long. I wanted to go and talk to her but something withheld me."

"What's that?" Trunks wondered.

"She was grieving. There was no doubt about that. But the little girl she held in her arms, she really caught my attention when she screamed out like that."

"Like what?" Trunks frowned, seeing something unfamiliar in the man's one eye. He was going to tell something interesting, that much was certain.

"_Tousan_. She called you her dad. It must've startled the mother, 'cause she left in even a greater hurry right after."

Trunks stared at the man. _Tousan_? That must've been a mistake. There was no way he had a daughter. It wasn't even possible. He shook his head in thought, then looked at the youth again.  
"It's not like I'm the only man with a sword." He paused. This wasn't right. The mysterious messenger leaving the crumpled up letter his mother had found on the kitchen table had claimed to come from an alternate world. It must be a mere coincidence. "You know kids, right?" he suggested to the disrupted crowd, wondering whether something like this would damage his reputation. He couldn't say he really cared what people thought. Besides, children didn't know any difference. Did they? Trunks wasn't sure.  
He felt uncomfortable.

The man nodded. "Right."  
"Can you tell me what they looked like?" Trunks asked.  
"Hard to tell. It was the dead of the night, you see. And she was wearing a dark cloak, like gramps said."

The old man glared at the youngster. "Who're you callin' gramps, sonny! I'm not your grandfather. I don't even look like one! I'm still more of a looker than you are, Cyclops. Heh. Hehheh." The old man tried to laugh but choked, coughing hysterically before regaining his posture, shaking his walking stick about angrily.  
The youth didn't pay him much attention and focused chiefly on Trunks. Apparently, he wasn't one to take insults from old geezers very seriously. Trunks found those unable to hold any grudges most admirable of all survivors. It was a trait his mother possessed also, but one he had never mastered. The youth smiled briefly. "Well," he spoke. "I hope you find your answers, Trunks-sama."

A shiver went through Trunks as the man addressed him so formally. Such utterly superfluous conduct was one of the chief reasons he never liked going into town. People simply treated him with too much respect. He was human, too. He had made his share of mistakes, like everybody else. He did not like being placed on some pedestal.

But at least he had learned more of the woman. She had a little girl.  
He left the centre of the city and walked further down the alley, to start his car out of town. He moved in a smaller street, and walked past a toy store. He was definitely moving away from the bustling centre. There were no groceries to be had here, for most buildings weren't even shops in this area of town. He'd have to fetch his mother's supplies later. He really could not handle any crowds these days. He tossed the capsule in the centre of the deserted street and as a small explosion resulted in his aircar it finally struck him.

_My Trunks_, the letter had stated. _My Trunks._  
_Tousan. Tousan. She called you her dad. Tousan. She called you her dad. It must've startled the mother, 'cause she left in even a greater hurry right after._  
Could it be Trunks really was the girl's father! Of course!  
There was a possibility, if the father was Trunks from another world. In another world, Trunks might've been a father after all. In another world, Trunks might've been a family man instead of a warrior. And perhaps, perhaps he'd been both.

Things were getting more complicated by the minute. With every answer, more questions rose. He had to find her. He had to know where she came from. He had to know who she was. And whether the girl she had with her really was his child, or at least daughter to some Trunks. Something must've happened to their Trunks, something bad.

He didn't know why but he felt he shouldn't leave just yet and he turned to head back to the town centre. Nothing this exciting had happened in a very long time. He hadn't been passionate about anything since what seemed forever. Finally he had something to focus on. This woman knew of a new threat, a creature called Majin Buu. He felt guilty longing for the awakening of this Buu. But he had to learn more of this woman and her child, first. He hadn't felt this giddy since he had first met his father, in the old timeline.

* * *

The child was still sobbing gently and chewed on her hand, like she always did when upset. Her mother tried hard to decide what she should do. She figured it was the right choice to not wear her cloak this time of day, not anymore anyway. She had more chance of being discovered when trying to hide in shadows than moving out in the open as if she had nothing to hide at all. But she couldn't really go about and ask people if they had found Bikini's doll, could she? It didn't sound like a very smart thing to do. Bikini had constantly mentioned her father's statue, especially when her mother had asked her when she'd noticed the doll was gone. She had simply mentioned her father's statue, over and over. The woman knit her brow, correcting herself. It wasn't a statue of _their_ Trunks; it was a statue of the Trunks belonging to this world. But she, too, had to admit the face was still the same. And she couldn't help but miss him. 

The town was a lot busier than it had been the day before. It didn't particularly strike her as odd, even though Tuesdays weren't exactly known as busy days at least hadn't been where she came from. However, it did unsettle her. She did not like crowds. Crowds made her nervous. People had always expected so much of her. People had looked up to her, from a young age. People had vested their faith in her, constantly. They had believed she and Trunks would save the world, from one threat or the other. They had relied on her and Trunks when Majin Buu awakened.

She closed her eyes, fighting her tears. What was she, some cry-baby? She was stronger than this. It hadn't been her fault. Majin Buu had simply been too powerful. She was lucky to be alive.

_Lucky. Some luck._

She wouldn't have any problem moving across town unnoticed. She knew she wouldn't. But the same couldn't be said of her child. The turning of heads her daughter's hair colour produced made her want to get away and get away fast. Lavender hair wasn't exactly common. And she realized what folk was thinking of when they saw her daughter. They were thinking of Trunks.

She sighed. As if being reminded of that herself every single day wasn't enough already.

* * *

Trunks sighed with frustration as he saw the massive statue looming in the distance. It was really too much of an eye-catcher. It was ridiculous. Why had they given him a statue anyway? What about Gohan? What about everybody else who'd fallen victim to those androids? He bit his lip. All right, so they had a point to mention he'd destroyed the androids, eventually. 

Eventually, that really was the keyword. He'd taken too long. He'd taken way too long. Gohan was dead. His father, his mother's friends, they were all dead. What use was there of being a saviour if there was no one left to save?

He stared at the statue from a distance, and watched children play in its shadow, running around with wooden swords. What did it mean to be a hero? He wasn't sure he knew the answer.

* * *

The inquisitive eyes following her daughter, the curiosity the girl provoked, did not please the woman one bit. Maybe looking for the doll wasn't such a bright idea after all. Perhaps she should just buy a new one. She remembered a sign from the corner of her eye, in one of the lesser streets. It was on her way back to the city, after she'd paid a visit to Capsule Corporation, sometime late at night. Curiosity had drawn her to the city. She hadn't seen a city quite like this in so long. And she had to replace the images of Capsule Corporation that had been carved in her brain that night. She'd known the way through that maze like it was nothing. Capsule Corporation. She had lived there, once. 

She halted for a moment, and Bikini opened her eyes sleepily, to see what was going on.  
Capsule Corporation! Could it be Bikini had lost her doll in Capsule Corporation!

She shook her head. The doll was lost if that were the case. A new doll would have to suffice. She moved away from the lively centre, away from the square, away from the statue that reminded her so much of _him_.

And then she saw him. His posture was poised and yet tense, somehow. His hair was long, and he looked quite old, actually. Perhaps mature was a better word. The wrinkles in his forehead moved, tightened. He'd seen her, too.

Trunks. There he was. But he wasn't her Trunks. He wasn't _their_ Trunks.

"_Tousan_?" the girl in her arms mumbled drowsily, waking further to her mother's sudden anxiety. Her blue eyes flung open as her mother tried to shush her, to no avail.

"_Tousan_!"  
Trunks didn't move, he only stared.

* * *

Author's Note: Hm. We need more action, that's for sure. I'm uncomfortable writing reflective pieces. 

Maybe we'll finally find out who this mystery woman is, eh. :  
Heh. I really want to see Trunks' face right about now. Author has a cheesy grin. Tee.

Thanks for reviewing. I appreciate it a lot. I suppose this story is a good distraction from my bigger fanfiction projects. It's good to practice smaller stories with less than a dozen characters, heheh.

Another chapter is in the making. Suggestions and criticism is very much appreciated. Feel free to be frank. )


	3. episode 2: distortion

**Doomed to Failure**

episode two ---distortion---  
(Rating: T)

* * *

Author's Note: the action will pick up, I promise.

* * *

Although Trunks had taken in the possibility of a child fathered by himself – or Trunks from a different world – he hadn't been prepared for a shock this big. Trunks was not easily startled but looking in the eyes of that little girl did something to him, something he couldn't grasp at all. Her eyes were the same as his, a deep blue, and her hair was _exactly _the lavender he'd inherited from his grandfather Dr. Briefs. This wasn't a mere coincidence, Trunks realized. 

His eyes moved to the woman. She looked extremely tense, frozen almost. For a little while Trunks thought she was actually afraid. The woman didn't say a word, simply tried to keep her child from running over to whom she thought was her father. Her eyes were very dark, as described by the old pervert, earlier. Her hair was short and pitch-black, cut in a boyish bowl. She wasn't very tall, though. Actually, she struck him as fairly petite. However, there was something more striking about her. She wore a gi in one piece. It looked only too familiar, with an obvious Son blueprint. She was a Son, she must be. But that was impossible… wasn't it?

She lowered her eyes and Trunks sensed she was weighing her options. Trunks knew she wanted to run but he didn't really understand why. If she knew Trunks, any Trunks, she should know to not be afraid.

"Tell me who you are," he suggested. He was perturbed by the child's constant cheer for her father. _Daddy, daddy, daddy!_ She called out to him. It made him cringe, even.

"I—" the woman stammered. Her eyes shifted nervously. "I—I don't want to bother you. We were just leaving when Bikini lost her doll." She fell silent again, searching for a way out of this. She couldn't bear to look at him and lowered her face in shame.

"Bikini? That's her name?" Trunks spoke, hoping it would ease the woman a bit. He didn't want her to run, not just yet anyway. Not before he had some answers. The woman flashed her eyes up, only to lower them again.  
"She—why does she—" he hesitated. He was unable to even suggest it.  
To his surprise, the woman actually knew what he had planned to say, which intrigued him.

"She doesn't know any better. She was very young when her father died. I guess she cannot tell the difference between you and—"  
She swallowed the end of her sentence, and refrained from finishing it.

The circumstances were becoming more and more awkward. This didn't sound like much of a conversation, Trunks thought. His mother had a lot more wit than he, especially when it came to uncomfortable situations. Right now, he wished he had had his mother's way with words.

The woman shook her head. "I really shouldn't be here."  
She took to the sky, catching Trunks off guard. She was swift, he had to give her that.  
He leaped after them, soaring over the city for the first time in what felt like years.  
Trunks wasn't as fast as he used to be, back when he still trained most of the time and was forced to train in order to defeat those androids. Back then, there wasn't much else to do anyway. Nevertheless, he knew he was fast enough to catch up in no time. She carried a child in her arms and she was a woman, even if she might be a Son. There was no way anyone in the world was faster than him.

Even if she was not of this world there was no one able to exceed his speed, period.  
All right, scrap that, she was fast – very fast.

But he'd catch up. He had to. Besides, there was nowhere for her to run so even if she could get away he'd find her still.

* * *

The child continued to scream for her father, getting unbelievably upset, to the point she attempted to kick her mother, who held her under one arm, pressed tightly against her torso. The little girl shrieked constantly, and her mother wondered how on Chikyuu the tot could produce such a racket single-handedly. It was destroying her concentration. She looked behind for a second, noticing Trunks was gaining on her. 

Trunks had always been faster than her. Trunks had been faster, stronger and the better fighter. It still surprised her how she had survived Majin Buu's final attack and Trunks hadn't. Truth be told, she didn't remember much. She didn't want to remember.

As she neared the forest area beyond the city limits she figured it wouldn't be long until he'd pull alongside her. She had to make up her mind. The time machine was still a bit of a wreck but it should be able to get her to a close by dimension without too much of a hassle. It had to because she couldn't stay here. It would only complicate things and it would distract of why she'd really come here in the first place. She'd come here to warn this world of Majin Buu. And it was the only reason why she'd come here. Right? She nodded angrily. Of course it was the only reason! This wasn't the first world she'd come across! Although she had to admit this world looked a lot like hers had moments before the awakening of Majin Buu. It frightened her. And seeing _him_ frightened her even more. She didn't want to be afraid but in all honesty she would never be able to match her father's fearlessness, nor Trunks' for that matter.

She landed in one sharp motion, setting her child down. Bikini glared at her, still sobbing. She'd get over it, her mother knew. She shot back up again, into the sky. Trunks was nearby. The thought alone irritated her to her core. This wasn't her Trunks. This man only _looked_ like him.

She shouldn't waste all her energy just yet. She didn't know how strong this Trunks was but figuring he had destroyed the androids and Cell by himself he must be strong, stronger than she was. But he had not fought Majin Buu. She had, and although she had been no match to Buu she had grown stronger during that time. She'd at the very least be able to delay him. She hoped that would be enough.

She threw her hands back, gathering her chi. He looked at her confusedly, stopping dead in his track. She didn't want to do this but she knew there was no other way. Knowing Trunks, he was too damn curious to let her go. She ground her teeth, pulling her hands crossways over her head. Trunks still scrutinized her with an enquiring look.

"Masenko…" she exclaimed.

The man opposite her stared, unsure of what to think. This was Gohan's special attack!

"Ha!" A bright, plum beam sizzled forward, missing Trunks by a thread. The only reason the attack had failed to connect was because of Trunks' swift response in avoiding impact. Trunks watched the ball of chi explode into a rock formation in the distance.

"Hey! There's no need to get hostile!" he yelled at her irritably.  
"I don't want to hurt you, Trunks!" she shouted. "Allow us to leave. We don't belong here. We need to be on our way."

Narrowing his eyes, Trunks realized something. The woman must be Gohan's daughter, from a different universe. How else could she have known Gohan had a daughter? Why else would she be wearing a Son gi? How else could she have learned his attack? She prepared another attack, he noticed. Quickly, he decided to try and stop her without having to hurt her.

"You're Gohan's kid, aren't you?"

The woman brought her attack to a standstill and looked at him with big, black eyes. She looked like a Son. She had to be a Son!

Trunks was unable to budge for a while, as she stared back at him with those dark eyes. The sun was slowly setting behind the woman and Trunks felt its rays burning in his eyes. He wondered what she was thinking in that exact moment as they stared at each other. Without realizing, he approached her carefully but before he was able to move anywhere near she dove into the trees, disappearing.

* * *

He wasn't planning on letting her beyond his reach a second time. If she wanted a chase, she would get one! He dove after her, manoeuvring in between trees, branches, bush and rocks, sizzling past one tree trunk after the other.  
She had better manoeuvring skills than he had, he perceived. However, no one was as fast as he. 

The woman looked back constantly, her face worried and overwrought. Why was she so afraid to talk to him? What was she really running from?

When she looked back yet again, her shoulder hit the side of an evergreen tree, knocking her off balance. Her calves hit a second tree, making her lose her sense of direction. She dropped to the murk, loose soil and crashed hard into the surface. In hopes of breaking the girl's fall, she held her child behind her elbows. The woman smashed into another tree, coming to a halt. She was disoriented long enough for Trunks to catch up.  
He stood before her as he towered over the both of them. He didn't quite notice how threatening he was in this position and he looked at the black-haired woman angrily. What had she been thinking moving in such a tightly packed space holding a child for Kami's sake!

The woman rubbed her face, trying to snap herself out of it. She had to keep moving. She had to stop Trunks from catching up. She… where was she anyway?  
Bikini struggled from her mother's grip and ran over to Trunks. Passionately, she hugged his left leg.

"Daddy, daddy! I missed you so much!" she exclaimed. Trunks looked down to her and frowned sheepishly. The girl looked up, meeting with his confused stare. She smiled widely. "You miss me, too, _touchan_?" she asked innocently.

Trunks didn't say anything. He just stared at her and the girl stared back, never intending to break the exchange of glances. The moment was broken when the girl's mother pickedher upand stood opposite Trunks, looking at him sternly. The girl turned to look at her mother and the woman's glare faded unwillingly. She wanted to cry. She couldn't handle this.

"_Kaachan_, why are you so sad?" the child wondered.  
The woman closed her eyes. "Because you're gonna hate me for a long time."  
Trunks studied them, unsure of what the woman was saying.  
She set the girl down again, pushing her against her legs. Then, she opened her free hand in front of Trunks' face, firing an string of chi blasts into his confused stare. This would delay him. It would buy her much needed time. He had not expected this.

Trunks fell backwards, onto the heavy ground, coming down with a loud thud.  
Bikini in turn screamed and dove for her father but the mother grabbed her by her collar. The little girl howled, unable to bring out any words, anything beyond a constant, horrified scream.

The woman tore her daughter away, and continued on her way. Her eyes were dark with pain. Yes, Bikini would hate her for this. But she'd get over it. She had to. They couldn't stay here.

* * *

Author's Note: Short, true. I probably have never written a chapter this short. Tell me if it is TOO short. Perhaps I need to be more descriptive? Let me know. The action is picking up, and more action is underway. Again, feel free to be honest.  
It seems the woman is a Son but one can never be sure until she will finally reveal herself to Trunks. This wasn't exactly a pleasant meeting, that much was certain. 

Knocking Trunks out wasn't a very nice thing to do, was it? Wonder how Trunks will react? Find out in the next chapter, eh?


	4. episode 3: the time machine

x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x 

**Doomed to Failure**

episode three ---the time machine---  
(Rating: T)

* * *

Author's Note: beware of some cuss words. Nothing serious. Just preparing those with heart problems. –wink!

* * *

Trunks was taking way too long. Dusk was setting in, celebrating the sky with hints of red and mauve. Bulma scanned the horizon from Capsule Corp.'s backyard, hoping for her son's aircar to loom in the distance rather two hours ago. Sadly, she was left with nothing, nothing that could ease her sudden anxiety. This wasn't like Trunks.  
What was taking him so long?

The silence of the evening rang in her ears, making her feel worried. She wasn't used to eating alone, not any more, not since the androids had finally been destroyed. She shook her head and let go of that thought. The world was safe now. But that letter… that letter really was something else.

Trunks was taking awfully long. Perhaps something had happened to him. Bulma laughed. It was ridiculous to worry. Trunks was stronger than she could imagine. No one could match her son. A feeling of pride coiled through her body. She was so proud of him. Of course, she for one had hoped he'd settle down and start a family some day but she knew she couldn't ask for too much. Trunks resembled his father too much. Vejiita had never been much of a family man either. But Trunks was a lot gentler than Vejiita would ever have been. She wondered why he chose to be alone.

The blue-haired woman smiled. Her mind drifted off in that direction only too often. She wondered if Trunks had found anything out yet. She hoped she needn't worry. She'd already worried so much in the years the androids had taken from her. What was this creature, this Majin Buu the messenger had written about in that crumpled up letter? Yet monsters weren't exactly what had Bulma spooked. Something was wrong but it didn't seem it had much to do with monsters and everything to do with the mysterious envoy that had come to their house. Who could've known Capsule Corporation inside and out beside she and Trunks? Which interloper could have known the way through the massive complex and be able to shut down the VC recorders?

She got up from her chair, leaving her plate of food untouched. She didn't have any appetite anyway. She could never eat when troubled. Maybe it was best to work on her latest invention. It might do her some good to be distracted. Worries caused for her face to line and age. She didn't want to look any older. She didn't want to look like a grandmother without being one.  
Again, Bulma laughed. There she went at it again! The thought of Trunks ever starting a family had been on her mind a lot, these days. Peacetime had her thinking nothing else.

Kami, she was getting old!

* * *

Trunks sat up slowly. He grabbed his head, cradling it in his hands in hopes of pushing the terrible headache away. Kami, he felt like a truck ran straight over his skull. What had happened? 

His eyes flashed open and he pulled his hands away from his face. He remembered. The woman had attacked him for no apparent reason. And after that she'd taken off.

The nerve of that woman! He hadn't done anything to upset her. He had a right to get answers! What the hell was wrong with her?

He pushed himself up on his knees, flicking off some dust. Wiping dried blood off his chin, he glared with his mind set on one thing and one thing alone. He took to the sky and flew off in a south-eastern direction.

Oh, he'd find her all right!

* * *

Bikini had finally fallen asleep. Today had been knitted together with one upsetting event after the next. Bikini was too young to be troubled with the difficulties and complexities adults were bothered with. How could she ever explain to her daughter that this wasn't their world and not _their_ Trunks? 

There was a thin line between keeping disconcerting things from her child and traumatizing her even more.

She sighed. Stupid time machine. Stupid piece of junk!  
She wanted to kick something, wanted to kick that damn time machine most of all. God damn it! Work!

No matter how often she'd helped Bulma out when she'd been only a child, she was a Son. She would never be a genius. Frustrated, she tossed a wrench to the side and brushed her black hair out of her face. Why did that stupid time machine have to break down now of all times!

Angered, she stood and landed a solid punch at the pod's side, driving a fist-shaped dent into its surface. That exact moment, the engine of the time machine was activated and the woman leapt in astonishment.

About damn time. Piece of junk.

She picked up her daughter, who was wrapped up in her tattered old cloak and she gently set her down inside the pod. The woman smiled, stroking the girl's cheek, and pressed several buttons to install new coordinates. She glanced at her daughter again.

Poor thing.

The woman turned to check if she hadn't forgotten anything important. Her eyes grew and her heart skipped a beat. What was she, some demented old lady! She'd almost forgotten Trunks' journal of all things she could possibly leave behind. Sheesh, she should get her head out of the clouds one second.

She descended from the craft to pick up the dilapidated old book. As she straightened a firm hand enclosed around her wrist and she looked up into deep blue eyes staring back at her harshly.

Again, her heart skipped a beat.

* * *

"Where do you think you're going?" Trunks told her in an irate voice.  
He didn't mean to sound as angry as he was. He couldn't really explain why he was so upset. All right, so she'd attacked him. Oddly, that wasn't nearly what had him this wound up. 

The woman glanced over her shoulder. Her child was still sleeping, which settled her a little.  
She turned to focus on Trunks again and looked at him, showing him only some calculated poise.  
"To the inter-dimensional coordinate of '59xw709', that's what."

Trunks stared at her. He didn't have any idea what in Kami's name she was talking about. The number she mentioned might as well be some vehicle's number plate. He sighed.  
"Alright," he said as he calmed down. "Why can't you at least stay for a little while? Shouldn't you refuel or stock up some supplies, or something?" He paused, and an idea hit him. "My mom can take a look at your time machine, if you're interested. It could use a touch-up."

The woman scratched her head. He had a point. And she was kind of hungry. At the thought of food, her stomach lurched. She blushed, looking down.  
"I could use a bite," she admitted. "But I can't. I have a child to worry about."

Trunks raised his eyebrows, trying very hard to be polite. He wasn't very good with people, especially not with someone who'd attacked him for no reason. He was wise enough to not bring that up though.  
"Then bring your daughter along."

She glanced at him, her eyes searching him as if he wore a plaque that said 'stupid'.  
"Bikini doesn't know the difference between you and her actual father. Staying here'd only upset her."

"And dragging her from one fucked up world to the next won't?" Trunks bit at her.

Ouch. He had a point. Again. Jerk.

She shook her head, her fists clenched. She shouldn't lose her temper over this. It wasn't worth it, and likely, Trunks was only trying to be friendly. Her Trunks would've done the same, unfortunately.

"Listen," she said with a sigh. "We haven't come here to chat over a hot cup of tea. I have better things to do than to upset my daughter all day." She pivoted and turned her back to him.  
"If you'll excuse me, it's getting late and we should be on our way. So long, Trunks."  
She turned her cheek in his direction, to peek at him once more.

"And good luck."

Somewhat dumbfounded, Trunks stared at the woman as she ascended the time machine, entering gracefully.

The woman gently shifted her daughter to the back, careful to not rouse her.  
Trunks really didn't know what to do. He didn't want her to go. He had so many questions still!

"At least tell me your name."

She didn't seem to hear him as the time machine's engine started to run up. He dashed over to where the capsule was audibly readying itself for travel and had already come off the ground. Quickly, Trunks levitated to her window.

"Tell me your name!"

She still didn't hear him but she didn't ignore him either and she opened the hatch carefully.

"What is it?" she sneered, in an attempt to keep her voice down.

"Your name…"

She shook her head and gave him a modest smile. "It's Pan," she said. "Son Pan."

It was that exact moment Bikini chose to leap out of the pod and into Trunks' stunned arms.

"Daddy! You came back!"

The time machine's loud engine drowned out the angry cuss words the woman screamed as she noticed what had happened and she set the rickety time machine down, angrily gesturing Trunks to land.

This really wasn't her day.

She turned the ignition and the engine shut down with a whistle. She ground her teeth, biting the inside of her cheek. How she hated not having her way. _Her_ Trunks could always convince her as well. She hated it. She absolutely hated it.

Exiting, she couldn't help but notice how elated her daughter was in Trunks' arms, even if the man before her wasn't really _their_ Trunks.

"Alright," she snapped at him. "Have it your way. We'll stay but only until the time machine is fixed."  
She walked past him and refused as he gestured her to take Bikini back in her arms.  
"You keep her," the woman grumbled in jest. "Finders keepers."  
Bah, she hated it here already. She hoped Bulma would be able to fix her time machine soon.

She really didn't want to be here.

* * *

Author's Note: next chapter's been written. Will post that one soon. 

To answer some questions: Bikini's about six years old. To illustrate what she looks like go here by removing the spaces h t t p / j o s a v . c o m / a r t / d b f 4 7 . j p g  
And you finally learned the woman's name, eh? So it's Pan. What does that mean?  
You can find out in the next chapter, hopefully.


	5. episode 4: her name is Son Pan

x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x 

**Doomed to Failure**

episode four ---her name is Son Pan---  
(Rating: T)

* * *

Trunks was already bossing her around. He had turned around and walked up to the time machine to switch it back to capsule form. Had he no brains at all? Sure, she couldn't blame him. Every piece of equipment had a button to contain it back into a hoi-poi but this one had been busted for well over a year now. It was a hassle, but she'd learned to deal with it.  
This was her time machine. He had no business tinkering with it as if he owned the damned thing! 

"You can't," she suggested. "The button's been broken for a long time."  
The sight of the lavender haired man holding Bikini in one arm made her stomach twist into knots. The sight alone was horribly wrong. It was wrong!  
She walked up to him, entered the time machine and took out the journal. She never left it out of her sight, except on rare occasions when she'd lost her mind. She rolled her eyes to her own stupidity over almost forgetting it. Had she been more careful none of this would have happened in the first place. She had only herself to blame.

Trunks covered the time machine with some loose branches and leaves and she watched how Bikini helped him out by moving twigs and only a few leaves at the time. It would have been adorable, had it been _their_ Trunks she was helping out. She narrowed her dark eyes.

"Bikini-chan," she called. Her daughter turned. In that instant, it seemed Bikini had forgiven her mother completely for anything that had happened before all this and the girl smiled with glee. "Bikini-chan," the woman urged, "come here."  
The girl glanced at whom she thought was her father, then looked at her mother again. She giggled, and reached out for Trunks' hand, who accepted her gesture hesitantly.

The woman was fuming on the inside and folded her arms, pressing the book tightly against her chest. If she hadn't any reserve left in her, she would've growled.

Trunks had to adapt every move he made to the pace of a small child and he reached inside his jacket to grab his capsule case. He tried to let go of the girl's grip but she looked up to him with a puzzled face and pouted.

"I just want to—" he started to say.  
He eyed the woman standing next to him who's smug grin stated she didn't seem so intent on helping him out. He glanced at the little girl again and decided to open his case and pick a capsule with one hand instead. It wasn't like he had much of a choice right now.

He picked a number 5 capsule, activated it and tossed it to the ground. With a small explosion, the hoi-poi turned into a small airship.

"What's that?" Bikini asked innocently.  
Trunks smiled but didn't look at her. "Your ride home," he said. He only realized the convolution of his answer after he'd said it and he seriously wanted to slap himself.

The girl in turn jumped up and down. "_Yosh' yosh'_!" she cheered.

The woman closed her eyes. Seriously, had _her_ Trunks ever been this stupid?

Kami forbid, how was she ever going to explain to her daughter that they weren't exactly going home, that _this_ Trunks wasn't _her_ father and—she snorted. _That_ Trunks would have to tell her. She was done with devastating her daughter, she had said so herself.

Damn that moron.

Without saying anything, she entered the airship and tried to ignore her daughter's bliss.

* * *

The ride home was a quiet one. Bikini crawled in Trunks' lap and fell asleep not long after.  
Pan could read how uncomfortable he felt. She didn't really care. He had ruined everything. 

Well, she had ruined everything herself. It's just that Trunks had caught her tripping and had taken advantage of the situation. Like _her_ Trunks, this one was no moron either.

She looked outside but saw only her own face reflected in the window. Outside was dark, and it might as well have been past midnight before Capsule Corporation came in sight.  
She studied her own face, counting the lines, the years she might have left to puzzle this ridiculous episode in her life. What had the Fates in store for her? She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She was knocked out of her focus when Trunks nudged her shoulder lightly and she noticed they had already landed.

She exited, glimpsed at Trunks who held her daughter in both arms. The way he held her reminded her of the first time _her_ Trunks had held Bikini. He had been so afraid of dropping her, or otherwise hurting her—but the memories were too painful.

A woman exited the massive building and rushed over to where they stood. There was no doubt in Pan's mind that this was Bulma. Her hair was longer and she looked less troubled than the woman she'd known but her eyes were the same, as was the sound of her voice.

"Trunks!"

"…"

"… …"

* * *

Bulma almost bumped her head against the lower bodywork of the vehicle she was working underneath when a buzz was heard. She moved from under the van and sat up. 

She knew that buzz! It was the security system being shut down from the outside. This could mean but one thing: Trunks had finally returned!

She wiped her hands on her overall, let go of the equipment she was holding and hurried to the other side of the Capsule Corp. dome.

As she ran to the main hall, she noticed the entire south end of the mansion was illuminated by top lights from either an airplane or a helicopter. What was going on?

She opened the door, shielding her eyes from the blinding light.  
Producing a small storm, the airship landed in the centre of the backyard and Bulma could see Trunks exiting as the light died down. The light the garden lanterns produced was enough for the woman to see Trunks was carrying something.

Or was it someone?

She walked closer and now she noticed. Trunks was holding a small girl!

"Trunks!" she called.  
Although the sight alone triggered Bulma to rush over immediately she was held back at the sight of someone else, a dark-haired figure who exited the aircraft in Trunks' shadow.

What in the name of Kami?

She was wearing a Son gi, there was no doubt about that. But the person was a woman, a young woman, no older than Trunks. The blue-eyed woman took a few hesitant steps closer, to notice the girl sleeping in Trunks' arms. She gasped, and the child opened her eyes.

Shock hit her in the face upon the sight of that little girl for she was the spitting image of herself, save for her hair, which was as lavender as Trunks'.

"_Baachan_!"

Bulma jumped.

What was going on here!

She was at a loss for words and she looked up to her son, looking for answers. His face was solemn, sad almost.

_Baachan_. Grandma. Grandmother. Eh—

What did this mean?

* * *

Trunks ushered his mother back inside.  
"I could use some coffee," her son said. That was strange. Trunks never drank any coffee. Something must've spooked him, and spooked him bad. 

Had it been funny, she would've giggled over her stupidity. Of course he was spooked!  
Hell, who were these strangers and why did she have the feeling either of them had more of a relation with Trunks than the uncomfortable distance the grown woman and her son kept, let on.

Bulma tarried at the entrance of her house. She turned, glanced at the child in her son's arms and her eyes trailed up to Trunks.

"At least introduce us," she demanded.

Trunks took a step back and turned slightly, to rest his eyes on the woman who had hesitantly followed him back to the house.  
"Mother," he spoke in a grave voice, "meet Son Pan and her daughter, Bikini."

Too much information! Bulma stared. _Son_ Pan? _Son_ Pan—?

Trunks freed one hand to push his mother back inside with a little more force. It was cold outside and he didn't want to grant the woman – he corrected himself – he didn't want to grant Pan another opportunity to leave. He wanted her inside first and foremost.

Bulma peered beyond Trunks to look at the tentative woman on the lawn.  
"You're a Son?"

Timidly, the woman nodded in reply to Bulma's question.

"Well then," the blue-haired woman said in response. "Do come in, make yourselves at home!" She smiled, carefully took the little girl from Trunks' arms and walked over to the woman to greet her properly.

"I hope Trunks was civil to you," she murmured to the woman jokingly. "He can be such a badger sometimes." She winked. "He gets that from his father."

Pan couldn't help but laugh a little. Yep, this was Bulma all right.

* * *

Still holding the journal close to her, Pan sat politely as Bulma laid out dishes on the kitchen table. She looked around. The kitchen even smelled the same. It had the same curtains in front of long, narrow windows and it had the same coffeemaker spitting out black goo. 

Son Pan had never cared much for coffee.

Bulma bent down to look at the young girl next to Pan, who looked up at the woman with big, blue eyes, smiling.  
"You want to have something, too?" Bulma asked.  
The girl nodded.

"No," Pan said, interfering. She didn't look at Bulma, instead focused only on her child. "You should've been in bed a long time ago, young lady."

The girl pouted, Bulma noticed. It reminded her—well, it reminded her of herself, actually.  
"But I'm not sleepy, mama." The girl yawned in mid-protest.

Pan raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"  
When the child was done yawning, she looked at her mother and nodded.

The woman wasn't sure what to do. She didn't want to bother Bulma, and she sure as hell wouldn't ask Trunks any favours. Luckily, Bulma helped her out. God, how she loved that woman! She knew she could always count on Bulma, any Bulma.

"I'll make a bed for her in one of the spare rooms. I'll be right back."  
Bikini stood from her chair. "Can I come?" she asked.  
Bulma fixed questioning eyes on the black-haired woman at the kitchen table who answered briskly.

"Sure."

Bulma left with Bikini, leaving her with _him_.

Great. But she could handle these kinds of situations. She was an adult. Besides, there wasn't much left she could ruin, was there? She stared out the window, feeling a lantern's light gleam in her eyes from the outside sweep. She knew it wouldn't be long before Trunks' piercing stare would result in questions fired at her.

"Were you and Trunks married in your world?" It was rather awkward using his own name as if it concerned someone else, but in truth, it did concern someone else. He rested his arms on the tabletop, waiting for a reply.

She didn't want to return his gaze. She couldn't handle it right now. She was tired. She wanted to catch some sleep. Angered, she bit her lip. This was the immature brat inside of her talking. She should face these issues as an adult and so she met with his eyes to answer his question.

"More or less," she said. Trunks' eyes revealed that he did not quite understand what she was saying so she explained herself before he'd pry. "Trunks wasn't the kind of guy to _need_ a marriage in order to commit himself fully. That's why we never got married. We didn't need some stupid piece of paper telling us what we had was real."  
There was a sense of hurt and remorse in her voice Trunks couldn't possibly place. It raised more questions, questions about this woman, about the other Trunks, about Bikini, about their world.

"What was your world like?" As Trunks finished his sentence, his mother entered and poured in a cup of coffee, quietly, distracting both him and Pan. Bulma clearly hadn't heard the question because she sat down and drew the other woman's attention with her eyes.

"Does she always have this much trouble falling asleep?" Bulma wondered, referring to the child she'd just tucked in.

Pan nodded in regret. "Yes. She's been like that since—" She hesitated. "Since her father died." Her eyes avoided Bulma's but everyone seated at the table could feel the heartrending pain in her words, weighing upon her shoulders.

"If you don't mind my asking…" Bulma began, uncertain of how she should bring it best.  
The black-haired woman looked up. She pressed her lips together, which suggested the start of a smile.

"How did Trunks—" she corrected herself unwillingly, what did Trunks have to do with this? Err… "How did her father –die?" the older woman finally finished her sentence.

"To spare you the intricate details," Pan answered. "Majin Buu killed him."

* * *

Author's Note: finally, we're getting to the root of this woman! Spill it! Details, woman. Details. 

Next chapter in process of writing. Suggestions and criticism, as always, are welcome.


	6. episode 5: Wakeful Warriors

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**Doomed to Failure**

episode five ---Wakeful Warriors---  
(Rating: T)

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Trunks from an alternate world had fathered the traumatized little girl that now lay sleeping in one of the guestrooms. Bulma had not been shocked but she'd been curious nonetheless. What had happened in this other world to make those two want to escape it? What had happened to her own counterpart and to Trunks?

"You and Trunks were never married," Bulma stated. She ignored her son's glare as he rather spoke of this new enemy than the _other_ Trunks. She sipped from her coffee before she continued. "Why? I can't imagine why Trunks wouldn't get married especially since you had a child together… I'm sure he couldn't resemble his father _that_ much." She thought of Vejiita, unwillingly remembering what a lousy father that man had been. Of course, she couldn't blame him, for Vejiita had never been given the opportunity to get to know Trunks. However, she had heard the stories her son brought from the past. That Vejiita did come around. Vejiita from the past had gotten to know Trunks; they had spent quite some time together, Bulma recalled. Her mind focused on the woman beside her again when she heard her dark voice in reply to her question.

"The child was legally his, if that's what you mean." Pan's voice sounded insulted, harsh even. Bulma also saw regret in the girl's face and she felt guilty trying to get answers from her. Before Bulma had a chance to say anything, Pan continued and the blue haired woman watched her carefully. She didn't understand how a girl who had seen this much terror, had lost the father of her child by the hands of some monster could speak in such a strong, stony way as if it hardly affected her. She reckoned Pan was a warrior, like Trunks but even Trunks had shed so many tears, albeit he would probably never admit it openly, he had. Only now did Bulma focus on what Pan was saying.

"… truth is, I couldn't marry him because I was afraid. I was never afraid of the androids or even Majin Buu but still, I was afraid to call Trunks anything beyond a warrior whom I fought alongside."

Bulma noticed the girl looked extremely worn-down and tired, her clothes were dirty and tattered, her skin grey almost. She figured the poor thing hadn't had a good night's rest for days and had been on the run for Kami knew how long. Before the woman could suggest her to get some sleep, Trunks spoke.

"I can relate to that," he said in a cold voice. Pan looked at him, confused. "It's frightening to have people that are close to you in times of war because it reminds you of the losses you've suffered before. You're afraid that in the end there will be no one left."  
He saw the untold hurt in her eyes and it reminded him of the old times, when the androids had still roamed. His hunches about this woman had been right; there was no doubt in his mind she was a Saiyajin for he saw more than just hurt; he saw a fighting spirit and pride in her as well. He wasn't going to spare her feelings like his mother was. He had to know everything.

"How old were you when Gohan was killed?" Trunks asked.

The girl wasn't given any opportunity to answer as Bulma stepped in. "It's late," she said. "I'll show you your room. You can borrow some of my clothes for the time being and I'll bring you a towel so you can clean yourself up in the guest's bathroom." She glanced at Trunks before focusing on the young woman again, who reminded her so much of Son-kun.  
Pan smiled gratefully and she followed the woman out of the kitchen and into a vast hallway. Her head pounded and she felt as if she was going to suffocate.

Trunks didn't move from where he sat and he didn't touch his coffee the entire time. Instead, Trunks was pondering on a lot of things. If what this woman said were true, there was another monster out there, dormant somewhere on this very soil. He still had so much left to wonder. Could she really be Gohan's kid? And could Bikini really be his daughter from an alternate world? What did it all mean?

His mother returned after a little while but he barely looked at her. The woman yawned. "I'm gonna turn in as well," she said. "It's been a trying day for all of us." She put the empty mugs in the sink and switched the coffee maker off. "Will you lock up?" Trunks nodded in reply to his mothers question, though he was hardly listening.

If there were another villain, his life would no longer be pointless. If there was another villain, he could prove to himself that his existence was not as futile as he thought. Being a warrior might not be such a burden after all. Could it be that peacetime was finally over?  
He felt guilty feeling this excited but he couldn't deny that he was in fact jubilant. He got up and opened the backdoor. He could use some fresh air.

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She was glad to be alone again. She stared at the door after Bulma had closed it behind her for she didn't know how long. Pan sat down on the bed. The mattress was incredibly soft and yet firm enough to support her weight. She hadn't slept in a bed this comfortable since… since Trunks had still lived, since before Buu had arrived and messed up everything she had loved so dearly. She couldn't bear to see Trunks. He wasn't the same man but the resemblance was all too painful. She didn't want to feel anymore. She had shut everything off for so long now. She sighed.

Pan looked around her in the sterile room, see-through curtains fluttering by the open window. She could leave just like that and no one would be able to stop her. If she did, she would have to leave Bikini behind. The thought actually did not strike her as uncalled for or otherwise wrong. If she would leave Bikini here, she was sure her daughter would live in a safe world. If she would leave Bikini, Bikini had a shot at being happy. In her turn, she wouldn't have to be reminded of Trunks all the time anymore. She wouldn't have to worry about her daughter's safety. She wouldn't have to feel guilty over dragging her from one place to the next anymore. Her daughter would have a chance of life in happiness. Wasn't that what she deserved?

Pan buried her face in her hands and wept. She couldn't do this. She simply couldn't.  
She tried to control herself and wiped her tears away angrily. In a nippy movement she got up and closed the window, catching the curtains in between. She opened the window again, jerking the curtains back in fury. Only now did she notice Trunks standing outside on the lawn below and she leaned on the windowsill to have a closer look on what he was doing there.

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The night was wintry. The dark sky was covered with clouds from which stars tried to escape in hopes of smiling down upon the black world. Rain hung imminent in the air. Trunks didn't mind. He rather liked the rain. Nothing in that cold atmosphere so much as hinted on the presence of an enemy that was told to be invincible. A Super Saiyajin had been unable to defeat them and yet Trunks knew he bore enough power to beat anything, any monster. He wondered if Pan was a Super Saiyajin. If that were the case, two Super Saiyajin had been unable to beat Buu. He frowned. Trunks had been a Super Saiyajin for years and although he had not faced a challenge in a very long time, he knew nothing could beat him. He was sure of it. He breathed in deeply as the first drops of rain started falling from the skies and he smiled to himself, grateful for being given such opportunity. He couldn't wait to witness the strength of this Majin Buu himself.

Trunks was anything but afraid, perhaps too eager to go to battle. He was very much aware of this and he knew it was his Saiyajin instinct that overtook the ratio he had inherited from his mother. He wanted to fight. He wanted this war. He had longed for it since the day he had defeated Cell.

He turned, looking up. He saw Pan looking outside, in his direction. As he raised his hand to greet her she moved away hastily and closed the window. Trunks understood that his presence must strike discord in her heart for he recalled how much it had both hurt and delighted him when he had seen Gohan again in the past time. The Gohan he had met in that world had been the same and had been so very different still. Trunks knew she was afraid of him but mostly afraid of her own feelings. He did not care. She had nothing to fear. He wasn't her Trunks and he wasn't planning to be either.

As he went back inside he made sure to lock the door behind him and switch on the alarm system that would secure all doors and windows from the inside. Though he cared little for anyone foolish enough to break into their house, he was careful enough to eliminate the odds of Pan and her child breaking out. He had too many questions still to allow Gohan's daughter to leave.

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She leaned with her back against the windowsill for only Kami knew how long. Her mind wandered too damn much. She could hardly focus on why she was here. She was grateful they had been hospitable enough to take her and Bikini in but she really couldn't stay here. She couldn't stay because Bikini was too young to understand. Bikini probably thought she finally had her father and her grandma back. The thought alone hurt Pan so much she was ready to cry. Perhaps it really was better to leave Bikini behind.

She grabbed the towel that was carefully placed on a lone chair and walked into the adjacent guest's bathroom. The room was tiled, elegant with gold and motion sensitive taps, and floor-heating. Although she had lived with Trunks for years she had never gotten used to the excessive luxury. She ignored the cracks in the far wall that hinted on a past time of destruction and despair. Taking off her ragged clothes, Pan got in the shower and let the steamy water calm her down. The wheels in her head wouldn't stop turning the entire time. She switched off the flood of water and dried her face with the towel, using her chi to dry the rest of her. It was a strange sensation to be able to use chi without having to be afraid of discovery. Discovery or not, Buu had been a moron; a destructive moron but he'd been a moron. If there were someone willing to fight her, she'd be ready.

The woman stood in front of the mirror as she brushed her teeth and inspected her face. She rinsed her mouth then looked at her face again. Her fingers followed the lines on her brow and under her eyes. She thought she looked rather tired, old perhaps. Angered, she ruffled her hair and stuck out her tongue. Even if she was naked and worn-out, Pan felt no shame for her scarred body and walked back into the bedroom, putting on the nightgown Bulma had given her. She managed a chuckle over the garment. She wasn't used to wearing dresses.

She let herself drop onto the bed and lay down on the blankets, facing the ceiling. Although she didn't want to sleep she dozed off in a matter of minutes, plagued by dreams of the past.

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She woke up with a start. It was still very early she reckoned, as the sun was yet to rise. She rubbed her face, pulling her knees under her chin. She couldn't believe her misfortune. How had she gotten herself into this mess in the first place? She got up and slipped out of her room to move down the hallway. Even though she had lived here for a good percentage of her life, she still had the feeling she could get lost easily. Luckily, her quarters were close to the living room so she had no trouble making it towards the kitchen either. She was hungry. Though she found it rather rude not to wait for breakfast, she knew she had to eat something or she'd collapse. She tried to sense everyone's chi. She could find her daughter's easily who was sleeping in a room near hers. Bulma's was easy to track as well, and she figured the woman was asleep also. Pan was frustrated finding it impossible to sense Trunks and she hoped he was out. She didn't want to bump into him. Her wish obviously wasn't granted when she entered the kitchen. She wasn't very pleased to find Trunks there.

"Good morning," she said. She sounded meek and she scolded herself for it. Trunks hardly looked up. "You're up early."

"I never went down," Trunks snorted without looking up from the bowl of rice he was eating.

At the sight and smell of the man's food, Pan's stomach lurched. The noise caught Trunks' attention and he looked up. He looked at her but she looked away and he ground his teeth together. "Why don't you sit down?" he suggested and he got to his feet. "I'm guessing you're hungry. There's more than enough in the fridge. I could get you some if you like."

"That's all right," she said dismissively. "I'm not that hungry." Her stomach rumbled again and her eyes moved around, to look at anything but him. He ground his teeth more. Her equivocation irritated him though he wasn't sure why it irritated him so much. He shoved his bowl of rice towards her and finally he had caught her attention. Her dark eyes set on his as he spoke to her: "Go ahead. It was my fourth portion already. I'm set." He knew she was thinking of accepting his gesture and to push her just over the edge he handed her a set of chopsticks. She dug in immediately and he smirked, leaning against the refrigerator. She ate like a Saiyajin. It reminded him so much of Gohan that he noticed a sense of melancholy washing over him. He tried to keep his smile but found himself unable to.

"How old were you when Gohan was killed?" He asked, as he had the night before. Trunks straightened when he noticed she had almost finished the bowl and he filled another one, which he handed to her promptly. She eagerly accepted his offer while he waited for her to answer his question. He knew she would provide him with an answer as soon as the worst part of her hunger was over.

He sat down again and as he did, she slowed her eating and cleared her throat to speak.  
"I wasn't even born," she said. "Mom had me maybe two months after Gohan had been slain by those androids. Trunks once told me he fought them against incredible odds just to keep them from destroying innocent people. Although I never met my father, grandma always told me how much I resembled him. I… I wouldn't know but that's what she always told me. She told me I have his eyes and my grandfather's chin. I never met grandpa either. He died long before I was born. They say he was a great man. And I can only aspire to be like my father... or Goku for that matter—" She stopped talking rather suddenly, as if biting her own tongue. She focused on her food again.

Pan felt like an idiot. She was rambling. The words she uttered sounded stupid and meaningless. They sounded as if she wasn't even sure whether she meant it or not as if she needed reassurance from some stranger. She ignored Trunks as he spoke to her and continued to focus on eating.

"There's no one like Goku," he said. She flashed her eyes up for a moment, wondering what he was getting at. "Gohan and he were so much alike. They had a strength in them that was remarkable, a strength that wasn't about sheer power. When I was a kid I wondered how mom could think Goku could make a difference and she told me—"

"He can make a difference alright! When you are with him you just now everything's going to be fine," Bulma filled in as she entered. "Morning, you two. Aren't you up and going early!" Instead of sitting down she immediately walked over to the coffee maker to switch it on.

"Did you manage to get any sleep, Pan?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at the young woman. Pan nodded as she finished her bowl. "Yes, ma'am."  
She was still hungry but didn't want to impose on anyone and ask for more. She decided to just wait for what was to happen.

"Don't call me that," Bulma urged. "You make me feel old."  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"  
"That's quite alright, Pan-san." Bulma took a mug from the cupboard and poured in fresh coffee. She leaned against the counter, blowing in her mug delicately.

"So, you knew your grandfather, Pan-san?" the blue haired woman asked.  
"Sadly, no," Pan said, and she shook her head. "I just know the stories grandma told me."

Trunks got up. "That's it!" he exclaimed. Both Bulma and Pan stared at him with a puzzled look. "If there's anyone able to tell us whether you exist in our world," the lavender haired man continued as he pointed to Pan. "It's ChiChi."

"What difference would that make?" Pan cut short.

"If Gohan had a daughter in my world I would at least want to meet her. I owe it to Gohan to watch out for her," Trunks snapped. Bulma watched the beginning of an argument and wondered what had happened to trigger this.

"If she exists," Pan spoke in a testy voice. "She has managed to live without you for Kami knows how many years. What makes you think she'd even want to meet you? You're the one who got in Gohan's way! You're the one who made him lose his arm and in the end his life! If it wasn't for you—!"

A fury built in Trunks' eyes Bulma had never seen before. His blue eyes turned darker, his brow furrowed in anger as he rose from his chair and dove for her, grabbing her by her throat and ramming her against the far wall. His eyes were near hers, eyes that flashed on the brink of becoming those of a Super Saiyajin.  
"How dare you!" he snarled. "You weren't even there!"

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Author's Note: I apologize for the long absence. I've been occupied with God knows how many things. Now I've gotten back to the rhythm they call university, expect chapters to be written again. Also, if you dislike the many passive sentences, which I use in between the active ones... eh... get used to them?

Know that this story is as much a TP as it is NOT a TP. I feel utterly cold when it comes to this whole rivalry of Trunks and Pan being perfect together, and Trunks and Pan being the worst couple ever. Give this story a chance whether you love or hate Trunks x Pan. Promise?


	7. episode 6: Never Dare A Super Saiyajin!

**Doomed to Failure**

episode six ---Never Dare A Super Saiyajin!---  
(Rating: T)

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Everything happened too fast for Bulma to realize Trunks' rather sudden attack was more innocent than it looked. She called out his name, hoping he'd remember this was still her house and he was to live by her rules even if he hardly caused her trouble (and she was more of a hassle than he was). Trunks seemed to respond to hearing her voice as he backed away slowly, giving Pan one last shove before he let go of her.

"My God, Trunks," Bulma said with a sigh of relief. "That's no way of treating our guest." Trunks didn't look at his mother, instead focused on the doorway. Bulma wasn't done talking and directed her words on Pan, figuring she could talk to Trunks in person, later. "As for you, Pan-san," she began. "Nobody speaks badly of my son, even if your father's involved. Trunks was only a boy when Gohan was killed. There's no way you can blame him for what the Androids did. I will hear no more of it." Pan nodded solemnly in response to Bulma's wishes. After all, she had been out of place to say those things and Trunks deserved an apology. She had no idea why she'd felt the need to bring up Gohan's death, let alone blame it on Trunks.

Pan looked at Trunks, who still focused on the doorway. She followed his eyes. Bulma did the same.

"_Okaasan_," the little girl in the doorway said in a pleading voice. "Don't make _touchan_ angry. That's not nice." She pouted and looked solely at the man she thought was her father. Pan said nothing for a while and looked at Trunks, then at her daughter, and at Trunks again, over and over. Eventually, she opened her mouth as she kneeled down beside Bikini. She caressed the girl's hair lightly.

"I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, Bikini-chan. Sometimes your mother opens her big mouth before she thinks about the consequences."

The child blinked, her blue eyes questioning. "What're consequences?"

"Bikini," Bulma interrupted, to catch the girl's attention. "Would you like some pancakes?"

"_Hai hai_!" the lavender haired girl exclaimed and she waved her arms about to run over to the woman.

"What would you like on your pancakes, Bikini-chan?" Bulma continued. She picked the girl up and fitted her newfound role as a grandmother perfectly.

"Sprinkles, and jam, and chocolate, and apple!" the child said, actually rather decisively. A Saiyajin appetite with a sweet tooth, Bulma thought and she laughed, taking milk and eggs from the refrigerator, setting Bikini on the counter so the girl would focus on making pancakes with her instant-grandmother completely. Disputes between adults were things that need not involve a child, Bulma knew.

Trunks in his turn walked out of the kitchen and he gestured Pan, as he laid eyes on her, to follow. "You come with me," he told her. Trunks was determined to settle whichever unfinished business this woman had with him, or at the very least with the Trunks she had lost. He'd scold himself for his lack of self-control later. He wasn't usually so easily angered but as soon as either Gohan or his mother were involved he was easily rubbed up the wrong way.

He'd look over his shoulder to see if she was still following, occasionally. Her eyes read confusion and the will to know what he was planning. He smirked. His feet carried him from one hallway to the next, taking a few turns so she would lose her orientation. She would find out soon enough where they were going. He avoided her questions as to what he was to orchestrate with practiced ease.

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"Where are we going?" she asked. To her frustration all he did was smirk at her. She breathed through her teeth. Why did this Trunks know exactly which buttons to press like hers had? She wanted to tear his head right off the damned bastard.

"So, where are we going again?" she tried a second time after she'd completely lost the last clues on her whereabouts. The bastard was playing a game with her and she didn't even know what game it was, damn him. Again, Trunks didn't answer.

"I've had it," she said crossly and stopped in her tracks. "I'm not moving until you tell me where the hell you're taking me."

He turned and looked at her, slightly amused with her ridiculous temper. He wondered what in the world this woman's mother had been like to have her turn out this obstinate.

"We're there," he said in a cool voice, opening the door with the flick of a button. He wasn't going to lose his temper over her immaturity again. He knew better than that.

"We're _where_!" she demanded in an uncivilized manner. Trunks didn't bite.

"You'll see once you enter," he challenged her.

Bah, that asshole. Her Trunks had been an equal bastard. He was taking advantage of her curiosity. She hated it when he did that. Upon entering she forgot to correct herself that this Trunks wasn't her Trunks and instead stared in awe over the vastness of this room, which looked like a huge, enclosed training ground. She had never seen anything like it, not even in her world. Trunks must've kept it from her, that selfish bastard, wanting to train in private.

The place was absolutely massive! It stretched out as far as her Saiyajin sight could see, which was mighty faraway. But, why had Trunks brought her here?

She turned and blinked, shielding herself from the bright light the man behind her flicked on. It took a while before her eyes had adjusted. While her eyes adapted she discerned a shape. The shape was of a tall man with the bluest of eyes. She recognized him. Trunks? _Her_ Trunks?

What?

How…?

_Nani?_.

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"Go ahead," Trunks said to her. "And take your best shot at me. Show me what you're made of."

She blinked more, unable to shake off the confusion. She didn't move. She couldn't move. She just stared, blinking.

Trunks noticed her hesitancy. He wasn't sure what she was waiting for but figured it had to do with the emptiness of the room. The room was made to resemble the Room of Spirit and Time he had told his mother of after his second return from the past. Bulma had been utterly fascinated by that room and had worked on a similar space for many years, just to figure out how to build it. This room wasn't the same but it came mighty close. When Pan was still not moving Trunks moved in the direction of the door, to a panel where he switched on some buttons.

His pressing of buttons initiated a programme Bulma had installed. The surroundings changed from a white vastness to a vast area of grassy rims and valleys.

"I hope that's better for you," he told Pan and walked up to her.

She looked up to him, and finally she seemed to return to the world of the living. "Huh?" she stammered. "Where am I? What… who…?"

She looked around her, noticing she was outside. She glared at Trunks. "Where are we?" she said in a snippy voice.

"Calm down," Trunks ordered. God, did this woman ever settle down? "You're in the Holographic Room. The landscape is mostly holographic but it feels real enough. I figured you wanted to blow off some steam."

"I don't need to blow off any steam. I just want to leave this place."

"You know where the door is. You sure you can find your way back on your own?" Trunks spoke slowly, irritating her. He didn't care. She needed to grow up. Why was she always like this?

"Not this stupid room, baka!" she cried at him. "Leave this world! The sooner I leave, the better! I did what I came here for so now it's time for me to leave. Not that you know anything… you can't even leave me alone."

Trunks' face did not tell her anything. He levitated. "Of course I can leave you alone," he told her. "Bye!" He took off in the distance and Pan wondered how vast this room really was, watching him take off at such a speed.

She shot after him, as she wondered where he was going.

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The outside world was black, lit up only by the stars that flickered and shone all around. There was no day here, nor was there night. The saucer moved in a steady rhythm, shooting past one galaxy after the next. The tiny, wrinkled old man inside the saucer, standing by the pane, rubbed his hands.

"Fo," he spoke in a cracking voice. "How long till we reach our destination?"

"Just a few more days, Lord Babidi," his assistant told him.

"Good," Babidi replied. "When can I have my lunch, Fo?"

"Just a few more days, erm, minutes, Lord Babidi," his assistant replied.

"Don't do jokes. I don't like jokes," Babidi said, and he looked outside again, into the space that was void of day and night.

"I apologize, Lord Babidi. It won't happen again." Fo bowed and took his leave, leaving Babidi to rub his hands and pull an evil smirk all by himself.

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After a while, Trunks stopped and landed. He turned and saw Pan approaching. She landed near him. Her anger seemed to have subsided, for now. The woman had so much anger in her, Trunks once again wondered whether she was a Super Saiyajin. Since talking to her apparently didn't get him anywhere he figured it was best to try a different approach. He stretched his muscles, warming himself up. She watched him carefully, wondering what he was up to. She didn't say anything. Keeping an eye on him sufficed, obviously. It was likely she thought Trunks wasn't going to answer her questions anyway, so she asked none and waited.

He took a deep breath and parted his feet a bit. He let out a shriek, then powered up to Super Saiyajin. His hair turned gold, his eyes burned with the aura of a warrior, flashing to a bright shade that only emphasized the power bursting from him already.

She glared at him. "What do you want from me!"

Trunks didn't reply. He just looked at her with those strong, emerald eyes. The ground singed under his feet, a golden aura still bursting from him violently, displaying his strength. Was he trying to intimidate her? What did he want from her? Was he testing her?

"Have it your way," she said. Whether this Trunks was similar to hers, she didn't care. She knew Trunks. She knew it was likely he was testing her, wanted to know how strong she was. Did he want to know whether she, too, was a Super Saiyajin? Her Trunks had questioned her strength long enough, questioned if she could ever become a Super Saiyajin in the first place. Pan, after all, was only one fourth Saiyajin. Her Trunks had long doubted the possibility of Pan becoming a Super Saiyajin and she admitted it had taken her longer to attain such a level than Trunks had. But Pan had never had a trigger quite like Trunks had. Pan had never consciously lost anyone close to her like Trunks had, before becoming a Super Saiyajin. How could any Trunks justify doubting her? How could this Trunks justify doubting her while she and her daughter were the only survivors of a monster much stronger than any of the androids had ever been? Did this Trunks think her Trunks had died because he had sacrificed himself to save her and their child? Is that what he thought? He thought she was puny? Did he actually think she was puny? That she was no better than a human in need of rescue? If so, this Trunks was as much a bastard as hers had been for not believing in her. Her heritage meant nothing, did it? All that mattered was whether she was a Super Saiyajin or not. Damn him. Damn that bastard. How dare he think he could fight the androids by himself? How dare he think he could take on Majin Buu alone?.! How dare he die?.! How dare he die on her and leave her to fend for herself, leave her alone in a world she couldn't cope with, a world without him?.! How dare he?.!.!

She had lost all sense of reality, all sense of this world and the one she'd come from, all sense of her Trunks and this Trunks. To her, it was all the same, the same fears, the same doubts, the same pain, the same loss. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

How dare he leave her? How dare he not believe in her?

She screamed in pain, a cry that startled the man before her, made him lower his guard, wondering what was going on. She continued to scream and tears burst from her eyes, alike the aura that burst from her entire being. Her hair began to float, her eyes stung. She had clenched her fists to the point that her knuckles turned white and blood began to trickle from her fingers. It just wasn't fair. The pain was too much, the pain she had buried in her heart was just too much. She was ready to burst and when she finally did, Son Pan stared through the eyes of a Super Saiyajin, her hair upright, her fists still clenched. She opened her eyes but did not collect the shock she read in Trunks' eyes. She did not realize his guard was down, and she didn't care anyway. She shot forward, and charged a blast.

"Kamehameha!" she cried, pushing her hands forward, her fingers almost touching Trunks' abdomen. It felt like a lethal blast, as if she intended to kill him, to rid her from the images that burned on her retina forever, to just never have to see him again, his eyes looking at her, her thoughts lingering on the years they had been each other's only support. She wanted to get rid of it all. She never wanted to see him, ever again. He was dead. He was dead!

She could feel how his aura began to waver, his energy faltering. She could feel him collapse out of her reach but she still did not realize what she'd done. The frustration she had built up all this time, the painful confrontation with a man that was so much like the man she'd loved for so long, loved still, continued to overshadow her reason, continued to drive her to the edge of insanity.

"I hate you for leaving me!" she screamed in the explosions that resulted from her blast. "I hate you, Trunks! I hate you!.!"

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Author's Note: Ouch, that must've hurt! And is that Babidi's bad breath I feel breathing down my neck?

Pan sure attacks Trunks a lot, doesn't she? But, at least we now know why. Apparently, she hates him. : ( : )


	8. episode 7: connection

Doomed to Failure 

episode seven ---Connection---  
(Rating: T)

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The heat produced by Pan's blast scorched Trunks' eyebrows. He had no other option but to charge to the next true level of Super Saiyajin, a level he had reached years ago but had never been forced to use in the long run. The first stage of Super Saiyajin wouldn't cut it with a Super Saiyajin KameHameHa, and so, Trunks was left with no choice but to call out more power. He shielded his face, then absorbed what was left of Pan's blast with his dominant aura. He had never been forced to ascend to Super Saiyajin Two. He had thought it necessary to defeat his time's Cell but he'd overestimated the creature, which proved nothing compared to the Perfect Cell that had killed him years before. But fighting Cell or the Androids was different from fighting your own kind. It felt different. It was different.

The area surrounding both Super Saiyajin settled, and Trunks managed to catch his breath. The last time he'd held his breath like that was so long ago, he didn't even remember.

He noticed she didn't move and therefore he stayed put as well. Whatever the girl was thinking, Trunks did not care. He wasn't angry with her, for he was mostly furious with himself, his own inability to predict her assault and hold some kind of superiority over her like he held superiority over everyone in this world. But she wasn't of this world so in that sense it was different. This was the second time she'd caught him off-guard. What did this mean? He noticed the girl powered down, and by instinct, he did the same. They didn't say anything for a very long time, simply stood opposite each other, softly gasping for air, hoping the other wouldn't catch wind of their lassitude.

Had he become a docile creature, being forced to live in an untouched world for so long? Had the scars left on Chikyuu's soil and in his heart slowly faded, to become no more than faint memories? Had the destruction of his arch enemies and the remedial effect of time dispersed his combatant nature to the point he was no longer able to think like an apposite warrior? Had the warrior-soul left him along with the light fading from Cell's heartless eyes as he'd destroyed him? Was his ability to become a Super Saiyajin still, but a remnant of what he'd been capable of years ago?

Once, Trunks had thought becoming a Super Saiyajin was something only a select, elite group was capable of. Super Saiyajin was a display of power and control beyond the grasp of mere humans, beyond the grasp of just about any warrior, even the most hardened Saiyajin. But was achieving Super Saiyajin really that special? This girl, Pan, had but a quarter of Saiyajin blood running through her veins. How could any human ever achieve something as profound and unique as Super Saiyajin? She wasn't just human either, she was but a girl!

Trunks looked at her, her bloodshot eyes not focusing on him at all, looking beyond, as if she was afraid to look at him. Trunks had been confronted with a powerful female before, and had learned the hard way not to underestimate any feeble looking creatures. But Pan's eyes were not like Number Eighteen's. Pan's eyes revealed a great deal of distress and pain; they revealed fear. The Androids from his timeline had long been incapable of fear, and in that sense differed greatly from their counterparts of the past time. Pan was capable of fear, and Trunks was convinced it was what drove her more than anything. This girl was not driven by fury or sheer hatred, no, this girl was driven by fear. But what kind of fear?

What kind of fear could push anyone into a position of unconditional strength that could be compared to that of a Super Saiyajin? What fear could push a little girl into becoming a Super Saiyajin?

He felt blood trickling down the corner of his lips and he wiped it off angrily with the back of his fist. Did she want a fight or was she like a terrorized housecat, unwilling to run but just as unwilling to fight?

Would he be pushing her if he'd ask her to fight him? He hadn't had a fight in so long. He'd longed to fight an enemy, anyone with the physical and mental resilience to keep up with him. He'd begged for a real skirmish for ever. She wasn't his friend. However, she wasn't his enemy either. He smirked, and he noticed it caught her interest, perhaps caught the anger still lingering inside of her.

"Is that all you got?" He told her sternly. "You managed to draw some blood, little girl. Not bad. But not nearly good enough to call yourself a Saiyajin." He realised he sounded too much like his father but didn't particularly mind. "I can take you out with one blow."

He knew he resembled his father more than he'd ever resemble his mom, his anger was the same anger his father had. His sadness was the same sadness his father had. His blue eyes tried to read her. This wasn't a time for friendly conversation. This wasn't a time for good manners. This wasn't a time to deny how much he did resemble his father, for he knew he did. He knew he was likely as bitter and sad as his father had been when he'd first met him. Was he also as proud? Was that what this was all about? Was it about pride? Or was something else at play? He didn't manage to get much out of her, yet.

"You're a joke," he continued, when he felt she wasn't biting. "There's no way you're Gohan's kid."

Her features changed, and she charged to Super Saiyajin again. Good, Trunks thought. Gohan was a touchy subject to her as much as it was to him. He'd fight her with her own medicine. He levelled to Super Saiyajin as well. There was no need to overpower her by becoming a stage two Super Saiyajin. He was unwilling to risk killing her. He was rusty, after all, and had no idea what he was still capable of after so many years.

She was yet to attack him. He figured she was waiting for him to attack instead. He wasn't very good at backing up his words with actions, and charge for her. She wasn't the enemy, after all. It struck him he'd probably be the lousiest actor to ever walk the stage on Chikyuu. He wondered if she'd notice, through the fury that was eating her.

He moved his hands in a notorious sequence, charging a blast. This was his trademark attack, and he was sure she was familiar with it, especially going by her eyes, which followed his hands by design.

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Spring was taking too long, Bulma thought to herself as she looked out the window by the kitchen sink. The trees were barely covered with buds, hiding under a blanket of frost. The lawn was bleak, and still showed signs of warfare with so many poison tearing through the land, leaving obvious scars. Her son did not wear many obvious scars, none that couldn't hide under his clothes or behind his gentle nature. But Trunks had grown awfully quiet these past few years. With each year that passed, Trunks had grown more silent, recluse if she hadn't constantly forced him to mingle with Chikyuu's growing population. The people of Chikyuu needed his support. She needed his support. What was happening to him? He'd been so happy in the post-war years she thought she would finally be able to provide him with a normal life, a contented life. What had called forth such a change in her son?

"Baachan."

The sun was bleak and could barely warm her old bones. She was getting old but there was little sign of it on the outside. Bulma mostly felt old from within. Why could her son not be happy? She closed her eyes. Son had always been carefree, able to withstand whichever horror played by his eyes. Gohan-kun had been like that, too. He'd been but a child when he'd lost his father, had been but a boy when his mentor and friends died at the hands of those vile cyborgs. Trunks had been shielded from everything. Trunks never had to bury his friends and loved ones. That is, until the boy came of age far too soon, when Gohan was so brutally murdered by Seventeen and Eighteen. What had happened to Trunks then was no more than a natural response to such a traumatic event but what had caused Trunks' recent change? Had he lost the will to live? But why? Why now?

"Baachan!"

She opened her eyes again. What was she to do? What was a mother to do? The bleak sun vanished behind a pack of clouds but Bulma didn't really notice. How could she help her son? How could she save him?

"Baachan! Baachan! Baachan!"

She looked down into the innocent eyes of a little girl, and smiled. "Yes, sweetie?"

"I want more pancakes!"

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When he was about to release his Burning Attack, Pan powered down, her raven black bangs falling in her dark eyes. He wondered if it was part of her tactics but when she dropped to her knees he felt something was amiss and he abandoned his attack. Pan was fighting her tears, Trunks noticed. She didn't speak to him, didn't even look at him, just sat there, fighting her own emotions. She let out a sob and lowered her face so he wouldn't be able to look at her face, the tears that formed and fell onto the hands that covered her eyes.

Should he comfort her? Should he offer her a shoulder? Should he say something? He didn't know. He was never good with expressing or grasping emotions. Why was she crying? Was it something he'd done? Was it something he said? An idea struck him, and he figured she was crying because he had brought up the rather sensitive matter of her father Gohan. She had never met her father, and likely, everyone had been killed by the Androids long before she came to this world. It must've been lonely for her, growing up in a world that was torn by war, bearing the legacies of both Goku and Gohan. What a weight to carry! What a responsibility to live up to! In her world, she was with him, with Trunks, her Trunks. Could it be that her Trunks was the only one left alive to understand the incredible burden of being the last of your kind, the last hope for the Earth?

She had fallen into quiet sobs no human would be able to hear. Trunks was no human. He could hear the rasps in her breath, the pressure on her chest from letting out the tip of the iceberg that was the pain she had been carrying for only she knew how many years. Not even Kami would know, for Kami was dead.

He was still standing at the same distance that had been between them for the whole of this morning. He checked his watch and corrected himself. It was well past noon. He likely wasn't the right person to comfort her and he had no clue how to anyway. He walked past her, intending to leave. He halted again, looking over his shoulder, debating whether that was the right thing to do. She likely didn't want him to see her cry. She likely didn't want him to speak to her or offer his shoulder as he reminded her too much of the things she'd lost. Was leaving really the best option? It might pain her more that he'd leave her to rot in her own sorrow like that. So what was he to do?

He walked back to her after a little while, when she'd stopped crying and reached out his hand. She looked up to him, her face tear-stained, confused.

"Come on," he said in a gentle, kind voice. "I want to show you something..." He hesitated. "It's about Gohan."

Tentatively, her hand reached out and touched his. With peaceable care, he pulled her up and their eyes met with a calm neither of them had felt in a very long time.

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A/N: I'm so terribly sorry for taking this long to update. This story is hard to write. I'm not good with angst, and terrible with anything remotely related to love. Again, I'm sorry.


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